X-Men: The Tomorrow People

Chapter I1

12

Sometimes, it’s dangerous to be a little different.  However, being different is what individuality is all about, and being an individual is what being human is all about; but for some reason, ignorance melts over the heart, lets the mind wander, and sometimes, people forget.3

And when they do forget, chaos is born, a chaos that cannot be stopped by any war-gun or devastating bomb, and if erased from the mind, still stays in the heart; but my mind and my heart have been two different existences since this all began, and they don’t work together to judge anything they see anymore. 4

I don’t get out much, but when I do I can’t help hearing about them, the Mutants.  They were born into a world that hated and feared them, gifted with unique abilities foreign to humanity.  Everyone is frightened of them, and says that all they want to do is hurt us “Homo sapiens”.  But mankind has always feared what it doesn’t understand. I go for walks, always with them in the back of my mind, itching at me like a scab.  Not the itching of fear or schizophrenia, but that of pity.  They were merely born different from everyone else, there was no will power strong enough to change that, and yet they were feared and hated for it.  Even killed.  It torments me wherever I go.5

On the TV, the same nightly program glows on my body and walls.  One of evil, one of fear, yet I know it is one of hope.  I see them, but not like others see them, because I know they’re not all evil.  I’ve heard the stories, I’ve seen the reality, and I know the truth…6

It all began so swiftly, like a breath to blow out a candle; sharp and precise, and very powerful, deep from the soul.  Under the hot sun of the mid-day, Los Angeles, California was like heaven.  This day was no different.  A naturally attractive L.A. day, soon to have the heavens itself shattered with the pain and fear the children of the future would grow to live with.  Hundreds of people were happily walking and playing in the streets near the beach, eating hotdogs and drinking smoothies, unconscious to the danger coming at them at the speed of sound.7

Suddenly you could hear it, hear them, hear the Sentinels.  Their evil sonic booms ripped through the sky like it was tinfoil.  On their shoulders they brought death.  The deepest fear one could ever imagine could not equal the fear of that day.  The new holocaust had begun…God save our souls.8

They were like red angels of death, falling from the sky like fire, falling from a previous hell unimaginable to anyone.  They were brainwashed steel, stripped of conscience and thought, body and bones; blanketing buildings with the cold, dark hatred of their shadows; for hatred was the only emotion they knew.  Not pity, or pain, or death; but molded in the fires of pure hatred. 9

When they landed, they broke the cement and asphalt around them like glass, covering the ground with blinding smoke and burning heat.  There were twelve of them, which meant twenty-four glowing red eyes.  Out of their cold, metal hands beams of searing energy billowed and beamed, vaporizing anything in the path of the shaft of light.  What they wanted to kill was them, the Mutants; and so they did, all of them.10

Children watched as friends and family were slaughtered, regardless of age or innocence, virtue or purity, while the chaos burned into their eyes forever; burned with a fire so hot, no tears could relieve the immense stress.11

One man lay helpless, begging for mercy.  He hadn’t even found out that he was a Mutant… yet, but those Sentinels, they didn’t see fear, all they saw were numbers and words scanning objectives across their faces.12

Mutant Gene CONFIRMED13

Proceed With TERMINATION14

The man cried and cried, but the Sentinel merely squashed him under his massive metallic boot like a germ, an illness to the human race.15

That night, the news anchors and citizens of America cheered at the deaths of all of the people, because they were different.  I had begun to hate people, hate humans, and thus hate myself for being one of them.  The newsman spoke so proudly of what we had done, I wanted to kill him.  Let him join the devil in the depths of the underworld.16

“Good Evening, I’m Boaz Eshelmen, and you’re watching the Channel Nine News Update.” he said to me over my TV.17

“Tonight’s top story: trial run of ‘The Sentinels’ is hailed as a triumphant success, as a Mutant nest in Los Angeles is uncovered and neutralized with no civilian casualties.”  Footage of the turmoil ran over the screen for all to see.  To me it was like a dream, half asleep, half awake, and wondering how an assumed intelligent species could carry out the transgressions of a thousand demons.18

“Were these Mutant terrorists behind the recent anti-human bombings in New York and Washington?  Police say the evidence is undeniable.19

“But human rights campaigners Amnesty International have condemned the action as ‘inhuman and unconstitutional’, provoking a stern White House response.”  The dying TV flickered for a moment, and then showed a stern business woman standing in front of a presidential podium, with microphones jabbing out in all directions like guilty, bloody knives.20

“How anyone can question the Sentinel initiative after the Washington annihilation is astonishing!” she yelled, flailing her arms, evaporating her business decor.21

“The President wishes to reaffirm his support for this project, and offers his most sincere congratulations to the federal employees behind it.”22

Again the TV flickered images of fire and pain, this time engulfing Washington, D.C. as firemen carried bleeding, crying children out of the revulsion while the news anchor continued.23

“The president’s press secretary was, of course, referring to the Brotherhood of Mutants’ devastating bomb-blast on Capitol Hill seven days ago.”24

Gradually, a nervous face came over him.  He began to sweat; he began to fear.25

“And the subsequent broadcast from Magneto, Master of Magnetism, the death cult’s self-appointed leader…”26

He lowered his head as the screen when to an old recording.  A middle-aged man with white hair hidden under a long, metal, maroon helmet was sitting on a giant steel throne, surrounded by mindless followers.  His whole body was adorned with red armor, and a long purple cape swept over his back.  His coverings shone brilliantly into the cameras.  He was feared more than any other Mutant, never underestimated for the dread of death.  He was gifted with the Mutant ability to create and manipulate magnetic fields and control metal, and believed that Mutants and humans could by no means coexist, and knew their extinction the only resolution.  He raised his eyes and spoke.27

“Man is a parasite upon Mutant resources.  He eats our food, breathes our air, and occupies land which evolution intended ‘Homo superior’ to inherit.28

“Naturally, our attacks upon your power bases will continue until you deliver this world to its rightful owners.”29

He stared past the cameras.30

“But your replacements grow impatient.”31

Almost immediately they showed a dirty scientist/mechanic like person with goggles strapped to his forehead, leaning against a very large computer which was bleeping numbers and calculations in the background of an oversized cement laboratory with an enormous arm of wires and sparks lying on a table.  The anchor’s voice continued in the milieu.32

“Former NASA engineer and Sentinel designer, Professor Bolivar Trask, was pleased with the performance of his androids, and is exited about further potential.”33

The scientist began to speak.34

“We’ve lived in fear of the Mutants for as long as I can remember, but today goes down in history as the turning point where ordinary people started fighting back.35

“Los Angeles was only the first step,” he continued.  “My colleagues and I estimate that every Mutant hiding in the United States will be detained within the next six to eight weeks.”36

Born into a world that hated and feared them, the Mutants needed safety, a haven to live, heroes to protect them; and when you need them most, that is when heroes arise.  That is how heroes are made.37

Chapter II38

139

San Diego, California: The Most Unexpected Place. 40

Fate moved through the air as unseen as a ghost and as silently as a cloud of smoke, as another spirit was to be enduringly changed in the war on Mutants.41

“Jeez, I haven’t seen anyone that nervous watching TV since my old man bet the rent on last year’s Super Bowl.”42

A dirty bar room, filled with the smell of cigars and tequila, an addictive smell that burned the eyes and blazed the nose, swelled up the atmosphere.  Beer bottles and pictures of women covered the walls like a shroud of filth across the place.  A group of hairless men in worn leather vests, with tattoos seared all across their bodies, stood by a pool table, not paying attention to the game nearly as much as they were to the large, odd man with long, black hair sitting at the bar, enigmatically wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shades and a bandana, with a duffle bag of clothes laying next to his stool, watching with horror at the evil news.43

“What’s the matter, freak?  You scared the Sentinels will drop in for a beer on their way back from L.A.?”44

The man continued to stare at the wall away from them in confusion.45

“Correct me if I’m wrong, sir, but I was under the impression that the Sentinels were only after Mutants.” he replied.  His voice was pleasantly deep, but educated, ringing through the shot glasses and liquor bottles accentuating the bar like a baritone note.  The biker guy looked at him and sucked and puffed on his cigarette.46

“Well, if you ain’t a Mutant, how do you explain those ugly, gorilla-sized feet of yours, dude?” he said, laughing and snorting roughly with his friends.47

“Was mom making out with Mighty Joe Young behind your daddy’s back or what?”48

The mysterious man’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled; his voice glowed with an undertone of anger and irritation.49

“I’m sorry, friend, but I think you’ve mistaken me for someone who walked in here looking for trouble.”50

The biker stiffened his clasp upon his pool stick so intensely you could hear the wood straining under his fist, like a tree ready to collapse.51

“Yeah, well I reckon you just mistook me for someone who cares, fat boy!”52

And with that he picked up his stick and swung with all his capacity at the stranger’s back, expecting to do nothing less than shatter a bone.  However, by the finish of the swing he had succeeded in shattering nothing but bottles on the tablet, ripping debris toward the startled bartender.  The previously offended man had vanished into thin air.  The biker’s head had spun left, right, and everywhere between, when the ceiling fan started to cough.53

“Ah-Hem…”54

“Oh, Sh…”55

The large stranger back-flipped from the sky, his hands crashed against the bar, and he used them to swing his feet out from beneath himself and smash his heels against the biker’s jaw with an uppercut, knocking him back onto the pool table.56

However, amidst all of the panic and disorder, the bartender had managed to reach for his shotgun, cocking it furiously.57

“Get out of my bar, you filthy animal,” he screamed to the now relaxed, squatting outsider, “or I swear to God I’ll decorate this entire place with every brain cell in your head!”58

“Are you serious?  The guy came at me with a pool cue.” the big gentleman said in bewilderment.59

“That’s right, freak, just keep mouthing off and giving me the excuse I was looking for to pull this trigger.”60

The big guy just sighed and picked up his duffle bag.61

“Okay, okay, I’m going…” he said walking towards the door, “… but the only reason I feel I can walk out of here with any dignity is that I didn’t flush the toilet when I paid a visit to your men’s room.” he said, flicking a quarter backwards at the bartender, and landing with a faultless ting in the tip jar.62

He left the hatred serenely, without as much as a slam of the door as he left out the rear exit.  There, waiting for him, leaning against an alley wall, was a shadowy figure accompanied by an alluring, attractive voice.63

“Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to live in a place where the locals aren’t organizing a lynch mob the second you walk through the door, Henry McCoy?” it said, almost urging him to explain his whole life to a shadow, but he knew he couldn’t do that, there was too much to tell.  All of his life he had been considered a freak, a virus, nothing more than an animal destined to be slaughtered.  The voice was all to right; he had been an alien to all of the regular people, no chance of ever being normal.  He had tried though.  He had even thought of death as the best answer.  He would think, “Why am I so hated, why when people see me do they turn away, why does no one love me like I need them to?  Maybe in heaven, if there is one, everyone is the same; everyone is normal.  Why did God do this to me?  All I did was be born…” His head buzzed frantically with questions through the knit-woven pockets of his mind, one of which seemed the best for the moment.64

“Who the heck are you?”65

Out of the shadows emerged a skinny, read-haired woman in leather.66

“The best thing that’s happened to you since they started doing Reebok in a size 42, handsome.”67

268

Athens, Texas: Nothing but Dust and Death.69

“Excuse me, officer.” a familiarly alluring voice said through the sun’s blistering heat, “Have you got a moment?”70

“Heck, Miss, I got two.  What’s up?”71

The officer was really the round, sweaty deputy of Athens, able to open any door in whatever much of a town it was, which essentially consisted of a church, a town hall (where the deputy was at this point in time), and a few sloppily scattered houses.  The remainder was a jumble of drying, dying weeds and people, content with life and everything about it.72

When the deputy had first seen the visitor, he knew she had to be a visitor.  Mainly for the reason of the unusual leather she wore, much too city slicker for a town mostly populated by cowboys.73

However, before he could continue any thoughts, he was first surprised by the emerald glow that began illuminating from her eyes.  Before long hers and his both glowed like headlights.  The deputy erupted with fright and tried to look away, but he had no control over his body at all anymore… she did.74

“What’s up, huh?  Well, despite the fact that I’m an attractive young girl, what your brain is actually registering at the moment is a middle-aged federal agent with all the relevant information.” she said holding up an FBI identification card with a satisfied smile.75

“Now let’s stop wasting my time and yours and take a look at this Mutant you boys said you found.”76

The deputy was no longer a deputy; he was nothing more than a blank, dead face with a very prominent stupidity factor to it.77

“Y-Yes, ma’am.  Sorry, ma’am.  I don’t know what came over me.” he dropped his Ranchers magazine and stood up.78

“Thanks for coming down here on such short notice.” he continued.  The girl put away her card and let out a pretend laugh.79

“No problem, son.  Ordinary Joe’s like you and me can’t be too careful with all these shifty, radioactive freaks on the loose.” she said sarcastically.80

They began to walk over to the back room where the deputy opened the door with his huge ring of keys and led her into the cell chambers.81

It was murky, grimy, and the only light was from the door they just had come from, which splashed brightness onto the bars of a particular jail cell.  Inside, crouched on the floor next to the bunk bed, was a woman with dark skin and long, unusually white hair wrapped in a ponytail, who squinted her eyes at the light from the door while the deputy ignorantly continued.82

“I know what you mean, ma’am.  This little car thief, for example, looks as human as you or me.  It’s hard to believe the freak created some kind of artificial lightning storm when we pulled over her 1978 Mustang on Highway 45 a couple of hours ago.”83

He reached back for his keys again and started unlocking the tough cage door as he kept talking.84

“Lucky for us Miss Ororo Munroe here hasn’t quite perfected her Mutant abilities or we’d be the ones nursing a few broken ribs instead of this little minx, huh?”85

“Thank heavens for small mercies, deputy.”86

The deputy laughed confusedly and succeeded in unlocking and opening the door.  While he opened the door, still with his own mind blinded with stupidity, the red-head leaned over toward the prisoner and whispered to her, “Grab your things and start running, Ororo… I can only cloud one mind at a time, and the sheriff will be back any minute.”87

While the deputy spun his circle of keys on his finger like a toddler, the woman grabbed Ororo by her Knicks tank top and vest and yanked her out of the cell, running for the door.88

“You’re not another one of Magneto’s stupid lackeys, are you?” Ororo said to her, balling her fist and gathering irritated static.  “I’ve already told him I’m not interested in enslaving the human race.”89

The girl kept her eyes forward and yelled back to Ororo, “Relax, sweetheart.  My name’s Jean Grey, and you’re working for the competition now.”90

391

New York: The City of Skyscrapers.92

Waves crashed against a pier next to the city, the city of all cities, built with the steel from the American heart.  Built with pride.  Built for hope.  Hundreds of people come here every year, every day, with the hope of starting a new life of pride.  They come to see the sights, and, by their choice, to be noble or sinful.  Nonetheless, sometimes there is no choice, and you must be both.93

The pier was littered with two men and two limousines.  The water was serene, peaceful.  They comforted the man who had no choice, the man who was poisoned by the incapacity of decision, the man who was forced to see no good or evil, and surrendered to both.94

In this mixture of mental diversity and though, a strong Arabic voice yelled over the sound of the ocean’s pride.95

“A little birdie informs me that every cent you’re paid by the Russian mafia gets wired back to your impoverished family in Siberia, Mr. Rasputin.”96

It was an extremely foreign man with jewels across his body, a thick, colorless beard, and a massive headband adorning his body.  He was one who had grown with the decision of evil.  He was sinful beyond all meaning of the word; however, his mind was even weaker.97

“I wonder, are all soviet expatriates such mother’s boys, or is this behavior exclusive to the arms-dealing community?” he continued, rubbing curiously at the other man’s oversized, metal suitcase, armored heavier than the most vigorous tanks could ever be. He was almost double the size of the foreigner, a tremendously large gentleman.  He was the man with no choice; he was the man with no decision to make.  He was wholly Russian, and had developed in the age of Russia’s renewal of government, and grown accustomed to evil and its nuisances.  He also knew how to negotiate.98

“Just shut up and check the merchandise before I kick you in the nuts so hard you’re gulping with three adams apples, Ahmed.”99

He lifted up his massive suitcase in his arms and opened it, revealing a gleaming, metal ball enclosed in black security foam.  Ahmed looked in very blissfully, and let the man know with a grin.100

“Your KGB Suitcase-Nuke looks quite in order, young man.” Ahmed said, assuring the adolescent Russian.  “I believe the gentleman I represent will be most satisfied.”101

Swiftly, two men in black suits spilled out of Ahmed’s Limo and walked to him and Rasputin, one of which was hauling an identical metal suitcase.  The silent guard handed Mr. Rasputin the suitcase and began to walk back to the Limousine with Ahmed.102

“My thanks for such a smooth transaction,” Ahmed said as he walked away with his men.  “And I’m certain we will do business in the very near future.”103

Suddenly, the Russian’s car exploded with men, all trained assassins armed with assault rifles.  The guns shook with heated noise as the men pointed them at Ahmed and his soldiers.104

“Freeze, you little snake.  Isn’t it customary where you come from to let a business associate actually count the million dollars in every million-dollar deal?”105

Ahmed stopped and lowered his head marked with shadows of hate and prejudice, and released a wicked grin.106

A helicopter raised from out of the horizon of warehouses, overflowing with armed military operatives, the rotors ripping through the air like a fire into the cold. 107

“I’m afraid that depends entirely on whether they’ve just been handed a suitcase full of monopoly money, my dear, young friend.”108

Out of the copter shredded hundreds of bullets that heated the sky and burned the souls of all men but the committers; burned with guilt and hate.  They sunk through the guard’s bodies and clothes; going past them even farther to burn into their car, ripping off whole pieces of metal at a time, and spraying the men’s blood across the fury bent slices of shrapnel.  Men, innocent men lost in the war against prejudice… and love.  Men with whole families… with children… died for no cause but that of evil’s pride.  No cause but that of a hope for a new tomorrow built with bricks of suffering and fear.  They died… so others could die.  But one man did not.  One man could not.  He was his family’s only hope, that hope for a better tomorrow.109

The sky seemed to cry bullets that speed to murder innocents.  They hailed into the Russian’s clothes, blowing them apart like leaves in the fresh cold wind of a funeral.  He looked to his hands, to his tattered clothes.  He melted to silver all over his body and morphed into pure steel.  Living… breathing… steel.  He looked at his slick, silver body, and crammed his mind with fury.  Bullets ricocheted off of his body, off of steel, off of intent.  He erupted with fury as flames detonated around his body, engulfing the pier.  Ahmed and his men retreated to their car in fear, like rats.  Dirty, filthy, worthless rats.110

They looked back to see the newly transformed Russian and gasped.111

“Oh dear…”112

The Russian stood there, his clothes torn, his body a faultless metal of aspiration, him holding his suitcase, as untouched as him.  A coy smile spread across his face.113

“My thoughts exactly.”114

He looked upon the ground, now littered with debris and death.  Bloody bodies lay over the pier, some burning in the flaming car, others floating in the water, churning in the chaos… a tear rolled down his metallic cheek.115

Out of his broken heart spoke an alluring voice.116

“I know what your thinking, Piotr.”117

Piotr’s metal body retracted back into skin, and he looked toward the voice in fearful surprise as the tear dripped off his chin.  It was a young, redheaded girl.118

“You think your cover’s blown and you’re all alone and you might as well stand here and wait for the Sentinels now that the word is out that you’re secretly a Mutant.”119

She leaned over and hugged him, whispering in his ear.120

“But you’re wrong.  You’re not alone.  Welcome to the X-Men, Honey.”121

4122

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Scott Summers, but as long as we’re in uniform I recommend you all get used to calling me ‘Cyclops’.”123

Many painfully long days had passed since Henry McCoy, Ororo Munroe, and Piotr Rasputin had been unruffled, recruited as the saviors of the Mutant and human races.  To people who had spent their life hating them, they would save, honor, and protect.  These would be the years that scorch their mind forever.  The years of waiting for their lives to change for the better, change to help had not been in vain.  Their purpose had been brought to them, showing them a path less traveled.  Showing them a choice never before offered.124

Their golden boots compacted athwart the fresh, firm grass in a mammoth courtyard in back of a mammoth school, “The Xavier Institute for Gifted Children”.  All of them dressed in night black garments, trimmed with gold belts and straps.  The women wore bullion amulets around their necks with a red and black “X” talisman, as did the men on their belts, signatures of a new guise of heroic power. 125

Scott Summers looked out of the ordinary at first glance, perhaps because of his polished visor he was forced to wear over his eyes at all times.  His Mutant gift was the ability to project an uncontrollable beam of ruby-colored concussive force from his eyes.  The only substance which his optic blasts could not penetrate was ruby-quartz, which the lenses of his visor were made up of.  At the push of a button his lenses would open and release the astounding blaze from his eyes.  He was the most knowledgeable fighter on the team, yet to be defeated.126

“Now,” Cyclops continued, “before we meet the professor, I want you all to run through your individual code-names one more time to make sure we’re on the same page here.”127

Ororo was the most largely nervous person there, for this was all very fresh to her.  She had the least familiarity with her powers, which made her feel most vulnerable.  She had the Mutant ability of being able to psionically control the weather at will, but her vulnerability shined through.128

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she said, “but…‘Storm’.”129

Piotr stood proudly with his new team, an option of good never identified to him before.  Now, he could help people without having to harm so many in the process.  His Mutant gift was the ability to convert his body into an organic steel-like substance, granting him superhuman strength and a high degree of resistance to injury.  He was so young, and his power was nowhere near its utmost crest.  He beamed conceitedly and transformed his body to steel130

“‘Colossus’ ” Piotr said.131

Henry coiled low to the earth, his eyes glowing with exasperation behind his yellow shades.  He was the only member on the team that couldn’t wear boots because of his gift.  Henry possessed superhuman strength and speed, extraordinary endurance, the agility of an ape, and the acrobatic prowess of an accomplished circus aerialist. His manual and pedal nimbleness were so great he could write with both hands at once and tie knots with his toes.  Boots would have just gotten in the way.  His hairy arms laid his knuckles on the ground like a gorilla as he spoke in his contrastingly sophisticated accent.132

“Am I the only one who finds ‘Beast’ kind of derogatory?”133

Jean was the professor’s first student ever, however she became an actual X-Man after Scott.  Ever since she had first met Scott she new he was a good person, mainly because she was a telepath.  She had the Mutant ability to read minds and, on a limited basis, project thoughts and illusions into the minds of others.  Her additional ability of telekinesis allowed her to levitate herself, other living beings, and inanimate objects.  She loved Scott, and he loved her.  He loved her eyes, shining with the brightness of the stars.  He loved her hair, softer than silk.  He loved her lips, sweeter than all the roses on earth.  He loved her humor, made him laugh when he wanted to cry.  He loved her.  Now she stood in a strict saluting position with a witty smile on her face.134

“‘Marvel Girl’ reporting for duty, Cyclops.”135

She made him smile, like always.136

“Knock it off, Jean.” he snickered.137

Cyclops turned and led them all through two enormous, gothic, double doors and into a ceaselessly long passageway, paying no attention to the men along the sides of the hallway painting hastily on the walls.  Beast was the first to grow inquisitive enough to ask a question.138

“There’s no denying you’ve got a beautiful school here,” he said, “but what kind of principal designs black latex for his impressionable teenage students?”139

Cyclops tranquilly replied, “The kind who wants the Mutant Gene we’re all carrying around to remain undetected by the Sentinels, I’d imagine.”140

A puzzled look stretched over the entire group.141

“The uniform is a cloaking devise,” he continued.  “As long as you’re wearing one of these, the Sentinels are fooled into thinking your bio-signature is safely within the human range.”142

Colossus, engaging in his security familiarity said, “Aren’t you worried these painters will tell someone you’re running a safe house for illegal Mutants?”143

Suddenly, his mind was pierced with an echoing voice that sent a wintry tremor down his steel spine.144

“Not in the slightest, Colossus.” the mysterious voice said.  “I placed these fine gentlemen in a post-hypnotic trance when I hired them.”145

The entire X-Team looked around themselves for the source of the inexplicable voice rapidly, all putting themselves in a defensive mode, fearful of an attack.  All except Marvel Girl and Cyclops.  The voice only calmly continued.146

“You could fly a plane down that corridor and the poor devils would be convinced they were looking at a wasp.”147

Colossus couldn’t take it any longer, thus he confusedly said, while trying frantically to remain composed, “Uh, is it just me or is there some creepy guy talking directly into our brains about wasps?”148

Cyclops ignored him and opened the doors at the end of the passage; where on the other side floated four wineglasses illuminating a sapphire mist.149

“Come in my friends.  Join me for a Perrier in the library.”150

Cyclops took one and smiled at the man sitting in his brown blazer and slacks at the opposite end of the oversized, slick steel-walled room, next to a massive, flaming fireplace.  The voice that had spoken into their heads earlier spoke again now.151

“My name is Professor Charles Xavier.”152

He rolled toward them in a steel wheelchair as a cat jumped onto the back of his neck.153

“You’ll have to forgive me for not standing up.”154

Beast frowned in confusion.155

“This might sound like a stupid question,” he said politely, “but is a room still a library if it doesn’t have any books?”156

Slowly and rather inconspicuously, a large hole shafted open silently in the ceiling of the empty library.  Two tentacles carrying a golden-red helmet drifted down the rounded room from the sky like landing birds without much notice and stopped inches above Professor Charles Xavier’s mature, baldhead.  The professor smiled with grace and power to Beast’s frown.157

“I’m afraid, like you,” he smiled, “my reading speed has reached the point where I can’t turn the pages fast enough, Beast.”158

The flames of the fireplace swirled surrealistically around the professor as he continued.159

“I prefer to sit here instead and read the minds of favorite writers as they type.  You’d be surprised how many good ideas never make it to the printed page,” he chuckled.160

Beast could only speak syllables of a fascinating admiration and humility at the power of Professor Xavier’s evolved mind.  It is rare that a man of such intellect such as Beast could ever meet a man of his equal, or rather a man who has found a way past such a dilemma as reading too fast for your own mutant fingers.  However, even though the professor’s power was obvious, Storm did not feel quite as astounded as the others.161

“No, that’s not fascinating.  What’s fascinating is that two grown men are answering to ‘Colossus’ and ‘Beast’,” she said hormonally.162

“I’m grateful for the roof over my head while this anti-mutant hysteria is going on outside,” she continued wrathfully, “but do we really need the insulting high school nicknames?”163

The professor leaned back in his chair, relaxed.  He smiled slightly, but soon he became stern, attempting different positions of his face to express himself, till he spoke with an unmistakable tone of strong love.164

“But these aren’t nicknames, Storm.” he said with sensitivity, “You’ve just been re-baptized as a post-human being.”165

Their shadows danced across the dimly light room and walls like fireflies playing in the darkness.  He could see the frustration of being controlled not disappearing in her eyes, so he continued into explanation.166

“It’s an idea Magneto and I devised once upon a time: a name which describes your own skills and personality as opposed to those of a long-dead ancestor.”167

Storm’s eyes sprung open with a wary surprise and protective glare.  She became quite defensive.168

“Wait a minute,” she sternly said waving her index finger, “I thought you said you had nothing to do with Magneto.”169

Professor Xavier shook his head in opposition.170

“On the contrary, my dear.” he said informatively, “There was a time when Magneto and I were like brothers.”171

Colossus and Beast sipped their drinks with etiquette and propriety.  Professor Xavier could see questions of origin in their eyes.172

“I was the one who helped him build his Mutant sanctuary in that lost, forgotten jungle.  A refuge for anyone seeking respite from the kind of persecution we had always faced.  For a while, it seemed like our little hiding place in the Savage Land was as close as God’s earth could ever come to heaven.  But sadly, nothing lasts forever.”173

Colossus, looking up from his drink, said despondently, like a child listening to a fairy tale, “What went wrong?”174

The true answer to that simple question was more a story than Professor Xavier had time to tell.  It was a mixture of lies and trails of deceit.  Magneto and Xavier had many differences in their views towards the outcome of the coming wars and humanities destiny, and while Magneto became angry and vengeful, the professor grew into a form of honor with hopes of a better tomorrow for the world and it’s people, which ended in the stabbing of Xavier through the back like a fish, ending with Xavier’s paralysis.175

“Let’s just say Magneto and I had something of a falling out.”176